


Don’t Hold Your Breath

by jeongochi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Aged-Down Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Self-Harm, Seungbin if you squint, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, actually you dont even have to squint, chan becomes whipped for seungmin, gay slurs, its there but seungchan is the endgame, seungsung are platonic best friends!, they’re all in the same grade level except for minho and changbin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-11-06 10:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17938163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeongochi/pseuds/jeongochi
Summary: Dandy boy Seungmin has been picked on and treated like garbage for majority of his life. And of course, the boy with the worst personality and attitude (towards him in particular), who just so happens to be one of the most gorgeous boys on their school’s football team doesn’t help with any of thatorYour cliché enemies to lovers, slow burn seungchan fic





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> hello~ welcome to my second fic! i plan on making this one a loooot longer than my previous one, so i hope you all will look forward to it <3
> 
> note that there will be an A/N of things that would potentially trigger someone in the beginning of each chapter if necessary, because i do plan on writing about or briefly mentioning certain sensitive topics
> 
> special thank you to my lovely friend eliz for being my beta reader~
> 
> i hope you enjoy xx
> 
> tw; gay slurs and mentions of abuse

“Move, you faggot, you’re blocking the way!”

Before he could fully process what was happening, Seungmin was shoved into the doorway, his shoulder blade and fingers slamming into the metal frame. His bones began to throb, his blood rushing as he did everything in his power to not let a cry of discomfort leave his lips. He slightly staggered back and faced the person who had pushed him.

Christopher Bang. 

Of course, who else would it be? It just _had_ to be him. The co-captain of their school’s football team, notorious for having the smile that made every girl drop dead and _swoon_ , oh, the almighty Christopher Bang!

Ah, but that wasn’t what he liked to be called, no; it was always the same reply, the same smile, the same embarrassed tint on his cheeks whenever he was called the wrong name. 

 _Chan, it’s just Chan._  

Seungmin actually never had a _huge_ problem with Chan until high school. Chan wasn’t even popular until they were in their first year together; he was just some geeky kid who liked watching Dragon Ball Z, collecting figurines, and showing kindness to everyone who talked to him. Seungmin would like to say that they were at least acquaintances at one point, but he wasn’t quite sure if Chan ever felt the same way. They did talk once or twice, but it was always simple conversation.

It’s _amazing_ what one summer could do to change someone.

The start of high school was when being popular started being _important_ , that’s when you _really_ figured out who your “friends” were and where you belonged in the social food chain. Unfortunately, Seungmin had always been at the bottom. Always.

Just his _luck_.

“Ah, I’m sorry…” he mumbled, fully stepping out of the way. He curled his hands around on his backpack straps once more, his mouth in a flat smile. He glanced down at the tiled floor, his grip tightening anxiously, yet again.

Most of the time, he tried to put up a tough demeanor, because he knew that if he let others know that their words actually hurt him, it’d be a lot worse than it was. His mom taught him that before things went bad.

 _Seungminnie-ah, you can’t let people get inside your head, okay? Keep moving forward and do your best to focus on doing what’s right for_ **_yourself_** _._

He always tried to keep that in mind, because no one knew that he already had it worse at home.

No one knew about how Seungmin always had to pick up his mom’s shattered pieces and constantly put them back together. Had to persistently hear her cries and pleads from the room across the hall. Had to hear creaks of a bed, followed by sharp cracks of a slap and gasps of pain.

His mom used to be so vivacious, her smile always bright, and her hugs so comforting and warm enough to make Seungmin forget anything bad had ever happened. It’s funny how as soon as he started to think things would look up for him, all thoughts of hope were immediately ripped away, like a child accidentally letting go of its balloon, not able to do anything except watch it fly away. 

Soon enough, he saw the life drained from his mother’s soul and body as he saw her fall apart with his own eyes. Her smile never reached her eyes like it used to, dark and dim with no life. Her posture became more and more like a rag doll, limp and weak. She was just a hollow shell, a ghost, drifting and floating around their house.

No one knew that Seungmin dreaded going home _every single day_ because he knew he’d have to see his father. Look at into his hostile eyes. Had to feel the tight sting and burn from his belt every so often. Hear his voice drip with malice and disgust as he insulted him day to day.

 _A failure. An absolute_ **_failure_** _. I raised you better than some pussy who can’t stand up for himself._

But he couldn’t help the way he was. He couldn’t help the fact that he’d never been strong enough. He couldn’t help the fact that he never had enough money for school supplies, clothes, _food_ , anything. His dad always took his tutoring money, claiming that it was _his_ money. His house, _his_ rules. And it wasn’t as if he was filthy rich either, their home was just average, yet still falling apart, despite two out of the three people inside of it working half-time jobs. It didn’t matter how much Seungmin made, he never had _enough_.

He couldn’t help the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he was never good enough for his father’s expectations either. 

 _You don’t_ **_dare_ ** _call me dad, it’s_ **_sir_** _, Seungmin, do you understand?_

_Yes, sir._

Over the past years, he had grown accustomed to his new lifestyle. Wake up. Come home. Sleep. Wake up. Come home. Sleep.

He wished he didn’t have to wake up some days.

Even at school, it was difficult for him. He _did_ have a job tutoring people who needed the help, because he _was_ in fact at the top of majority of his classes. However, with his dad taking his money, it still wasn’t enough for anything. And because of that, he was constantly wearing the same three sweaters that smelled like cigarettes and sweat, same pair of shoes that were falling apart, same five pairs of pants that were starting to fray; hence the origin of one of his frequently used nicknames.

Patches.

God! He absolutely _hated_ that stupid nickname! It was also because of that particular aspect about him being “poor” that kept people picking on him.

 _Hey, Patches! Did your mom sew those jeans for you?_  

_Did you make your backpack yourself? Seems like it’s not holding up so well, how ‘bout you let us take a look at what’s inside and maybe we can help you fix it?_

_You still living in a cardboard box?_

He hated to admit it out loud, but half of it _was_ true. His mom _did_ have to sew his jeans sometimes, and he really _did_ have to use duct tape in order to keep his backpack from tearing due to all the weight of his books. But what else was he supposed to do about it?

He really doesn’t know what he did to make others so spiteful of him. He does his best to keep quiet at school, he doesn’t raise his hand in class, and doesn’t really make an effort to _talk_ to anyone. 

Some just simply liked picking on him to just...do it. No particular reason, no motive in mind, just for the fun. 

Chan was one of those people.

It was constant harassment, whether it be physical or verbal. Thankfully, it had never been _that_ bad to the point where he got seriously injured, and he prayed that it stayed that way. Regardless, there wasn’t a single day that went by where Chan _hasn’t_ said or done anything to Seungmin. He often wonders _why him_? Why has some holy, spiritual entity specifically chosen _him_ to handle all of this? It was as if they were punishing Seungmin for doing God knows _what_. Breathing? Existing? Part of him doesn’t think he’ll ever live long enough to figure out the answer to that question.

Despite of all the constant harassment he got on a daily basis, there was one thing he’s never done in front of others.

Cry. 

He would _never_ , ever allow himself to do so. He vowed to himself a while back that he’d never show that their words and actions got to him. Crying was a _weakness_ , and if he ever showed his real emotions, it would mean that they’ve won. That he wasn’t _strong_ enough.

So for now, even though his hand and shoulder were still aching, he sucked it up like he normally did, and patiently waited for Chan to just fucking _move along_ already.

_Please keep walking please keep walking._

But it seemed as if the more Seungmin internally begged for Chan to leave, he never did. His brows were furrowed in disgust, his mouth turned in a scowl as he gave Seungmin a once over. He already knew that he was probably looking at his withered shoes on the verge of falling apart, or the torn sleeve of his sweater. He couldn’t help but feel his face flush as he continued to avoid eye contact.

_Stop looking at me._

**_Please_** _stop looking at me._  

_Please just keep walking please keep walking please kee-_

“Yeah, you should be sorry.” 

He gave Seungmin one last look and walked into the cafeteria. It was at that time, that Seungmin finally let out the shuddering breath he had unconsciously been holding in, relieved that he didn’t have to be afraid to hold it in anymore.

 

* * *

 

Like most of his days, it went by in a blur. Still got the same treatment from the same people. Still got the same insults hurled at him. It was like clockwork. He’d been enduring this for a while now, so he was slightly used to it, but at the same time, it still hurt like hell to hear such livid words come out of his classmate's mouths. He always wondered if or when they’d ever break him.

However, something new had happened to him a few days later.

When he opened his locker—ignoring the pieces of paper taped onto it, words like _FAG, POOR,_ and _QUEER_ scrawled in bold letters on each one—and expected to see just his jacket and books, a small, folded note fluttered down from the top shelf.

Completely thrown off, he didn’t know what else to do except...stare at it.

 _What the—what the hell_ **_is_ ** _this?_

 _Who_ in their right mind would _ever_ take the time out of _their_ day to actually put a note in _his_ locker? His mind flooded with thoughts of what it could be. A love letter? Absolutely _not_. A tardy slip? No, the office would’ve just called him down if it had to do with his attendance.

Gripping his backpack straps for support, he bent down and plucked the note off the ground. He tilted his head, still wondering what this simple piece of paper could hold. Maybe he was just overthinking it, but still, there was absolutely _no_ reason for this to ever happen to him. Why would someone leave a note in his locker?

His body was screaming at him to not open it, like it was some sort of time bomb, but eventually, his curiosity got the best of him. Hesitantly, he unfolded the piece of paper.

_Party tonight at Hongjoong’s house @ 7_

Below it, there was an address printed in neat handwriting. Seungmin felt his blood run cold as he reread the note. This must be a joke, right? A really sick joke? Or a simple mistake? There’s _no_ fucking _way_ that he, some poor, friendless kid raised in the slums of Seoul, was invited to...a party? Especially a party hosted by _the_ Kim Hongjoong? 

The same Kim Hongjoong that was captain of the football team _—_ who also just so happened to be _Chan’s_ best friend? The same Kim Hongjoong that supposedly hated Seungmin as much as he hated him? 

 _No, no, no, this is just some prank, some really, really stupid,_ **_ridiculous_ ** _prank-_  

As much as part of him hated it, another side of him had a sliver of hope burning inside of him. Because maybe this _wasn’t_ a joke, maybe this was God’s sign to him practically saying, “Here you go, kid, here’s your break.” 

Maybe...maybe this really _was_ a sign.

_Kim Seungmin, are you an idiot? You’re walking right into their trap! It’s a joke! You’re going to make a fool of yourself._

_You think they’d invite someone like you?_ ** _You_** _of all people?_  

 _You’re just some Seoul loser who doesn’t_ **_deserve_ ** _to even_ **_think_ ** _about having friends._  

 _Having a_ **_life_** _. Fitting_ **_in_** _. Being_ **_accepted_**.

 **_You’re_ ** _the fucking joke._  

His inner conscious was still seething and screeching for him to not even _think_ about going to this party. But another part of him still had...genuine hope. Like _actual_ hope. That maybe, whoever put the note in his locker was trying to apologize for the things that they’ve all said and done to him.

But then a sudden thought occurred to him: how would he even _get_ to the party…? He didn’t have a car, and he _definitely_ didn’t have anyone at home that would willingly take him to anything involving other people, _especially_ a high school party. He looked at the note again and pulled out his phone, the screen littered with cracks from how many times it’s been thrown on the ground. He typed the address in as he shut his locker, leaning against it. It wasn’t _that_ far of a walk, he’d make it there in at least an hour if he sped walk.

Now that he got that squared away, what would he even _wear_? His mind ran through all the options he had to choose from in his closet: his three sweaters that he hadn’t been able to wash for _weeks_ , stained white pajama shirts with silly cartoon characters on them, shirts that were all a size too small for him...the list was endless, yet completely useless. He had to at least make himself look _somewhat_ presentable.

The gears ticked and worked themselves as he worked through all the possibilities and— ah! There _was_ one idea that could potentially work, but it was _slightly_ risky.

He could just...simply _borrow_ one of his dad’s shirts. Maybe he could even find some cologne? It seemed to be the best option out of all of them, but what if he got caught? Oh God, Seungmin didn’t even want to _imagine_ what his dad would do if he found out he had taken something from him without asking. _And_ for sneaking out. What the hell was he thinking?

_This is a stupid idea, no— this is a TERRIBLE idea, Seungmin, what the absolute fuck are you thinking?_

As much as that small part of him hated the overall idea, maybe, just _maybe_ if he somehow magically pulled it off...this could change his _life_. He could change his _own_ pathetic life into something better. Maybe the other kids genuinely wanted to fix things. There was no other reason that Seungmin could think of for why they would invite him in the first place.

 _This is my_ **_chance_ ** _to_ **_change_** _._

And with that thought in mind, he clenched the note in his hand, and started to walk out of the building, a small smile playing at his lips. The chilly, fall breeze and the smell of autumn leaves welcomed him as he made his way home.

He didn’t notice the boy watching his every move from down the hallway and out the front doors, a phone pressed against his ear. 

“ _We got him, Hongjoong. He’s coming_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if by any chance you have any questions, feel free to dm me on twitter @jeongochi or comment below :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa im so sorry it took me so long to update :(( this chapter was vvv lengthy and took me unnecessarily long to write sjsjsjksks but i hope the wait was worth it! enjoy xx
> 
> tw; extreme use of gay slurs, humiliation/degradation, mentions of previous implicated child abuse, and violence

The crisp leaves below his shoes crunched with every step he took. Each foot on the ground was one closer to Hongjoong’s house. It was almost 7.

He pushed his glasses up higher on his face, as they started to slip with the sweat beginning to form on his nose and forehead. He turned a corner, occasionally glancing at his phone for directions. Where the _fuck_ was he?

He noticed that the further away from home he became, the more the neighborhood started to look more alive, the street lamps somehow becoming _brighter_. The rundown buildings soon morphed into noisy karaoke bars, clubs, and fast food joints.

But when he was more than nearly two streets away from his destination, there was little to no people, all the sounds of joyous laughter and murmurs of talking were distant, behind him.

It was odd how one moment he was surrounded by people, and the next he was alone again.

The bitter air nipped at his face and the rest of his body. He shivered, taking a moment to rub his arms in an attempt to feel any kind of warmth.

He had decided to choose one of his dad’s black, long sleeve crewnecks. Unfortunately, it was thin because it was made for everything except warmth and comfort. Not to mention how Seungmin hardly ever got food at home and didn’t have the opportunity to buy lunch at school, the shirt was _extremely_ baggy on him. He tucked it into his jeans, hoping he would look good enough to pass as someone who was invited to a party by _the_ Kim Hongjoong.

Was he scared? _Absolutely_.

Did part of him think this was still some kind of joke? _Of course_.

But he forced himself to keep walking, praying that this would be his break, this would be his opportunity to fit in for once.

_You have now reached your destination._

He glanced up from his phone, his mouth agape at what he saw.

The scene laid out in front of him was absolutely _gorgeous_. He stood outside the open gates of a two-story, maroon and white house with vast glass windows that covered the majority of the building and exposed the people inside. Sleek, expensive cars filled the paved driveway, flashing lights bouncing off of them. The lawn was trimmed to perfection, the decorative hedges still a vivid green despite it being fall.

Of _course_ this would be Hongjoong’s house. Seungmin always assumed he was rich because of the car he drove to school every day, but he didn’t know he was _this_ rich.

He started walking with a greater purpose now, increasing his pace, and maneuvering his way around parked cars.

Humming excitedly as he neared the home electrifying with the deep bass pumps of EDM and vibrant lights streaming from the windows, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Something inside him felt _wrong_.

What if...what if maybe this wasn’t even the right house? What if the address he was given was _fake_? And what would he even do once he got in? He didn’t have any friends, everyone “knew” him but he didn’t know _them_ , and he sure as hell knew that Chan and Hongjoong’s group of friends wouldn’t talk to him.

But maybe this would be his time to come out of his shell, be the person he _wished_ he was. Someone _popular_ , someone _strong_ , someone who had _friends_.

Biting his lip, he fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt, all while staring intently at the ground.

_What should I do?_

_Should I leave?_

_This is a waste of time, I should just go home-_

“Ah! Seungmin!”

He snapped his head up to the voice that belonged to none other than Kim Hongjoong himself. His feet refused to move, seeing the other male jog over to where he was still standing like a deer caught in the headlights.

_Oh FUCK-_

“Yo! So glad you could make it!” Hongjoong’s voice was loud, cutting through the air between them. He was wearing his football jersey, his light brown hair parted and matted. He stood a safe distance from Seungmin, knowing his boundaries, but still giving him a friendly clap on the back.

“Hey, glad I could make it too.” Seungmin did his best to make it seem like he didn’t want to combust into a pile of ashes at that _exact_ moment, so he did his best to conjure up something that resembled a smile. “Thanks for inviting me.”

It was weird to see Hongjoong giving Seungmin what seemed to be like a genuine smile for once. He never really smiled in front of Seungmin whenever they interacted. Most days, Hongjoong’s mouth was always twisted in a scowl, but tonight was different.

He was acting _nice_ for once. And it shocked Seungmin to even think about it, but at that moment, he felt...accepted. Welcomed.

“Hey, it’s no problem, you’re my guest tonight. How about we go inside? We can talk more in there.”

Seungmin nodded, letting Hongjoong wrap his arm around his shoulders to guide him.

“You drink? Wait, nevermind, you probably don’t, but tonight will be your first, right?” he grinned at Seungmin, winking. Seungmin immediately flushed and averted his gaze to the bushes they were walking past, clutching his phone inside his pocket. What in the absolute _fuck_ was he embarrassed for?

_Get your shit together, Kim Seungmin!_

_You need to stay_ **_on guard_** _._

Chuckling nervously, he pushed his glasses up and half-heartedly shrugged. “Yeah, I mean I guess…”

“There’ll be a _lot_ of first-time things tonight, don’t worry.” Seungmin opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that, but before he could get anything out, he realized that they had entered the house, which was somehow even _more_ breathtaking than the outside.

“This is the first time you’ve been to my house, right? Pretty sweet isn’t it?” Hongjoong gave a satisfied sigh, almost like he was trying to boast about the overall wealthiness of his home, but Seungmin disregarded it. Everyone he had tutored in the past had never personally invited him over to their house, so this was really his first time in a place like _this_. Majority of his life consisted of going home, school, and the library.

Seungmin couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky he was to finally experience something like this. Although he mentally slapped himself knowing that he probably looked like a complete _idiot_ staring at everything and everyone, he was just so infatuated! This was...his _chance_ to fit in for once.

While Hongjoong made small talk with others around them to give Seungmin a moment to let everything soak in, he took the chance to see if he knew anyone else besides Hongjoong that he could maybe make conversation with. He saw some of the people in Hongjoong’s group in the enormous crowd of sweaty bodies all holding cups, and even full _bottles_ , of liquor, but he knew none of them would even spare him a second glance. It was even weirder when he was able to point out people that didn’t even go to their school.

_Is Hongjoong really that popular…?_

Through the intensely colored strobe lights that strained his vision a bit, he narrowed his eyes, seeing a group of his other classmates sitting around a table. There was smoke in the air, and they seemed to be passing around some type of tube connected to an object that looked like a vase.

Hongjoong must’ve noticed his sudden confusion, because he followed Seungmin’s gaze and burst into laughter, tightening his grip on Seungmin.

“Seungmin, it’s a hookah, have you ever used one?”

Seungmin had never even seen one in person before. It looked...interesting, yet simply disgusting at the same time. All the saliva of his known and unknown classmates all on one mouthpiece being passed around a circle. It seemed so...unsanitary.

_Disgusting._

He shook his head. “I mean, I know what it is, but I’ve never used one,” he admitted. “Do you think I should try…?”

Now, Seungmin had never smoked, touched or used a single tobacco infused product in his entire _life_ ; although everything leading up to now was miserable, he still had an urge to live. An urge to move on. An urge to go to college, get his degree in who knows _what_ so that he could get his mom out of the place they were forced to call their home.

But technically, using a hookah wasn’t considered _smoking_ smoking, it was just flavored tobacco and vapor, right? It’s not like he could _die_ from just using it once. Plus, there was no one there to hold him back from doing the things he told himself he wouldn’t do; why not let himself go for just one night?

“Hey, you got nothing stopping you,” Hongjoong shrugged. “I’d say that if someone asked if you wanted a hit, you should just say yes. Got it?”

Seungmin nodded. “Got it.”

Hongjoong grinned once more before maneuvering both him and Seungmin through the people crowding the narrow hallway. “Let’s get you a drink then, hm?”

He greeted a large group of boys in the kitchen as he tugged Seungmin to stand by his side, arm still wrapped around his shoulder. The close proximity of their bodies made Seungmin slightly uncomfortable due to the fact that another person hadn’t touched him in such a friendly way in what seemed like _years,_ but what was he supposed to tell Hongjoong? He would kick him out for sure, and Seungmin wouldn’t let that happen. Not tonight. He was going to make the best out of this opportunity he got, no matter _what_.

“Boys, you all know Seungmin, yeah? He’s joining us tonight on this very, very special occasion! Treat him good, alright?”

Seungmin gave them all a small wave and sheepishly smiled, darting his eyes around the interior of the kitchen. He could feel their eyes undressing him, taking him in.

_Why did Hongjoong invite this kid again?_

_What the hell is he doing here?_

_He’s not_ **_one of us_** _._

Pushing his glasses up once more and wanting to cave in on himself due to all the sudden attention of their stares and the negative pressure he was putting on _himself_ , he forced himself to stand upright. No, he wouldn’t let his own feelings dictate his actions tonight. _He_ was the one in control.

However, his thoughts tumbled over themselves as he gathered the strength to make eye contact with the other boys. The look that some of his classmates gave him made him shudder, several of them looking at Seungmin like he was a...piece of meat. _That_ definitely took his main thoughts for a turn.

But before he could even think about hightailing it out of there, Hongjoong said, “I have to go and greet some other people, you gonna be okay on your own?” he still had one hand on Seungmin’s shoulder, the other setting his now empty cup in the sink. Seungmin could still feel the gazes of the other boys tearing apart his body.

_Please stop looking at me please stop lookingatme-_

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” he lied, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Find yourself a good drink.” Hongjoong leaned in close to Seungmin’s ear, sending shivers down his arms and spine. “The vanilla vodka is really good.”

His words left a warm trail against his neck, Seungmin’s heart pounding against his chest as he felt his face flush.

“A-ah, really? Thanks, Hongjoong.” he bowed his head slightly to hide his rosy cheeks.

Hongjoong pulled back and let his gaze linger on Seungmin, acting like he hadn’t just given him a damn _heart attack_ , before walking into God even knows where.

What Seungmin didn’t notice was the look that Hongjoong gave to the other boys standing nearby; his head tilted down, eyebrow cocked, his lips curling up in a wicked smirk.

All Seungmin was worried about was the faint trace of fire spreading throughout his chest and neck.  

_Why is he making me feel like this?_

As Seungmin was left alone with his classmates and his thoughts, the room became doused in awkward silence except for the steady bass playing from, where Seungmin assumed the music was coming from, the living room. The boys quickly seemed to have disregarded Seungmin and quietly continued their earlier conversation, which was _completely_ fine with him.

Just like Hongjoong’s smirk, Seungmin missed how the group of boys kept glancing over at him, and _not_ in a good way.

Without knowing what else to do or who to talk to, he ambled towards the counter that held more bottles of liquor than he’d ever seen in his entire _life_. Even his dad didn’t have _this_ much.

_Vanilla vodka, vanilla vodka, which bottle is it?_

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice, normally brimming with venom, but now sounding like smooth honey flowing.

“Hey.” it was Chan. Seungmin immediately felt his stomach twist. When did Chan even come up behind him? Seungmin gave him a flat smile in return, nodding his head. He leaned back against the counter, taking his glasses off and using the bottom of his shirt to clean them. He noticed that the other boys left the kitchen, meaning that it was only him and Chan now.

Chan was wearing his jersey too, his dyed dirty blonde hair parted to the side, like waves flowing in the sea. He absolutely hated to admit to himself right then and there, but Chan looked _good_. Like _really_ good. Seungmin now noticed how protruded Chan’s arm veins were and he felt his face burn again. It was almost as if he was like a model or some kind of ethereal angel that descended from the Gods above. Funny how someone looks more attractive when they’re not saying or doing anything that hurts another person.

Seungmin put his elbow on the counter, resting his chin in his palm, not knowing what to say. He was tempted to just stare at Chan’s sudden beauty, but chose not to. He knew it would benefit both him and Chan if he didn’t comment on his appearance.

He, for a while, had known his sexuality but knew it would drastically increase the harassment he already got on a daily basis, so he hadn’t told anyone. Not his mom, not a single _soul_. Did he get hurt by the slurs thrown at him? Not necessarily, because it’s not like they were _wrong_ , he was, in fact, bisexual, and was at peace with himself, even if he wasn’t accepted by others.

The bottles of alcohol were taunting him as he gazed at them, not giving any of his attention to the other boy standing near him. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Chan was clearly uncomfortable just standing there, taking small sips of his unfinished drink with his other hand shoved deep in his pocket.

_What the fuck does he want from me?_

But soon after standing in another long beat of silence, Seungmin had enough of it. What was he supposed to do all night, not interact with anyone else besides Hongjoong and drill holes into the sides of the beer cans? No, the least he could do is _try_ to talk to Chan, mainly because he didn’t know anyone else and didn’t want to be a sitting duck the whole night.

A small part of his thoughts on Hongjoong was changing into something less than hatred, maybe acceptance? Would the same apply for Chan?

“So...did you need something, or...?”

Chan snapped his head up, eyes wide and surprised that Seungmin had even said more than three words to him.

“I-I mean, not exactly,” he fumbled, shifting on both of his feet. It was odd to see Chan so unlike...Chan. Seungmin almost took pity on him. It was as if they switched roles. “I was thinking we could just talk?”

Now it was Seungmin’s turn to be surprised. But what was he supposed to expect? That must’ve been the reason for them to invite him in the first place, right? First Hongjoong, now Chan. This was a good thing!

Still, a part of him wanted to be petty and bring up all the things Chan had said to him in the past, but the past _was_ the past, this was _now_. _This_ was his chance to make things right.

“Sure, but before we talk about anything else, can you tell me which one is the vanilla vodka?” he gestured towards the mixture of drinks. “Hongjoong said it was good, and I’ve uh, never really done any of this stuff before, so I could really use the help.”

He could feel his face heat up with embarrassment, realizing that he had just exposed himself for being so...boring. His lips curled up as he awkwardly chuckled, instinctively pushing up his glasses.

Chan tensed the moment Hongjoong’s name came out of his mouth, but he didn’t notice. “Ah, Hongjoong told you…?” he seemed lost in his thoughts, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. He quickly snapped out of it, remembering that the boy in front of him had asked him a question. “Yeah, for sure, it’s that white bottle,” he came next to Seungmin, their arms touching as he swiftly turned each bottle around, reading their labels. “right here.”

Seungmin felt his body freeze as their arms continued to brush against each other, Chan reaching past him to grab two shot glasses.

_I-I’m...taller than Chan?_

He put his hand to his mouth to stifle the laugh that pushed past his lips.

“What? What’s funny? Is there something on my face?” Chan questioned as he pulled his arm back to his side, both cups in hand. He seemed to be back to his normal self.

“No, no, it’s nothing.” Seungmin pulled his sleeves over his hands as his laughter faded to small chuckles. “It’s just that- I never thought I’d be taller than you.”

Chan stared at him with a smile playing at his lips, setting the glass objects on the table to properly pour the liquor. “Oh yeah? I may be older and shorter, but I bet you I’m a _lot_ stronger.”

Seungmin stopped in mid-laugh as Chan flexed, his muscles practically _bulging_ against the tight fabric of his jersey. He opened his mouth to retort back, but nothing came out, so he closed it.

He was usually so hostile towards him, so it made Seungmin’s stomach churn as Chan’s twinkling laugh flooded the kitchen. He had _never_ treated him with any kind of dignity for as long as he could remember, never gave him a smile so authentic, never actually had a _normal_ conversation with him. It felt...nice.

_Kim Seungmin, you’re really just going to completely overlook everything both him and Hongjoong have done to you?_

_Naive coward._

“Ahh, Seungmin don’t give me that look, I’m just kidding.” Seungmin rolled his eyes to hide the fact that he couldn’t just not _not_ notice how when Chan smiled, his eyes turned into crescents and his dimples made him look somehow more adorable than he already was. The kitchen could suddenly burst into flames and Seungmin would care less. He would only be looking at Chan and admiring how his smile shone as bright as the stars.

It was almost unbelievable, how Seungmin had only been talking to Chan for only a couple minutes and it seemed as if nothing bad had ever happened between them. A gentle wave of relief and tranquility washed over his body. While hearing the bass pounding from the living room and seeing Chan look and act like such a decent, normal human being for once, Seungmin couldn’t help but feel like he finally...belonged. He felt like he _mattered_.

_Is this what it feels like to be accepted?_

“Here, Seungmin, let’s do a toast!” Chan suggested. He handed him the shot glass that was now filled to the brink with liquor, pouring the same amount into his own shortly after. “For, what I assume is, your first time drinking, and for us...starting new?”

Pride swelled inside of Seungmin. He knew it! His assumption about them inviting him in the first place was so they could fix things!

With that thought in mind, Seungmin held his glass up to Chan’s and clinked it against his, relishing in the moment of pure contentment that he hadn’t felt in a _very_ long time. “Cheers to us, Chan.”

He tried to remember how people in movies always drank alcohol, did they just take small sips? Or down the whole thing in one go? Well, Hongjoong was taking swigs of his own drink before, but maybe it's because he was just more experienced than Seungmin was?

He figured that he may as well attempt to take it all in one gulp, because it didn’t _look_ like that much, so he tipped his head back and felt the burning liquid slide down his throat.

“Wait, Seungmin, don’t slam it-”

But it was too late, for Seungmin immediately started making noises of disgust, the vodka sending flames down his esophagus and settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh my _God_ -” he felt his insides lurch as he put his cup back down on the countertop. “Oh my fucking _God_ , you drink this shit for _fun_? Is this supposed to taste _good_?”

Chan’s face was also twisted in a look of mild revulsion as he took his shot with one swift movement of his hand, but he quickly recovered from it, unlike Seungmin who was still trying to get the taste of extreme bittersweetness out of his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s pretty gross at first.” he reached into the pack of orange flavored Fanta settled near the kitchen island and grabbed a can, chugging it as a chaser. “But once you keep going, you start to ignore the burn and the taste becomes not as disgusting, I promise you that.”

Seungmin shuddered at the thought of even taking another sip because it was _that_ nauseating, but he grabbed his cup once more, poured himself another shot, and gulped it down.

Chan was right, the second one definitely wasn’t as bad as the first, but it still wasn’t good. It was an odd mixture, kind of like some type of overly carbonated, vanilla infused soda. It was sickly sweet, yet left a tangy, bitter taste in this mouth, how could _anyone_ drink this?

“Oh _fuck_.” his nose crinkled as furrowed his brows, closing his eyes to give his stomach a break. “I am…disgusted-”

Chan laughed again, pouring both himself and Seungmin another shot. “Are you feeling anything yet?”

Seungmin shook his head. “No, not really.”

“Well hey, I know it probably tastes like shit, you don’t have to keep drinking it if you don’t want to.” Chan’s sincere gaze didn’t leave Seungmin, not once. “If you think you might throw up, I can show you where the bathroom is—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay,” Seungmin interrupted, taking a deep breath. “I can do it.”

He was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t feeling anything, but it only _seemed_ like he wasn’t, so he just kept taking shot after shot, the bitterness soon becoming tolerable.

The room wasn’t spinning, and faces weren’t blurry and out of focus like how they were normally portrayed in books and movies; instead, he felt as if he was rocking on a boat in the heart of the ocean, his limbs weightless as he felt his veins tingling and surging with sparks.

“You know, Chan, you’re actually not even that bad,” Seungmin jabbered as he swayed, but tried his best to keep himself balanced by holding onto the edge of the counter. “I mean, yeah, you’re kind of a dick to me, but you’re kinda nice when you’re not being a dick, you know?”

Words just spewed out of his mouth. There was no filter, no hesitation, he was just...blunt. A little bit _too_ blunt. “It’s weird because I feel like I can control what I’m saying, but I can’t at the same time, is that how it normally is?”

Chan did what looked like a mix between a shrug and a nod, his cheeks now tinted a shade of pink due to Seungmin’s semi-true accusation towards him. “Some people handle it differently, I guess. But it’s kinda fun though, isn’t it?”

Seungmin held his hand out in front of his own face, and then waved it back and forth, back and forth. His entire arm felt like a noodle, or like one of those tall, inflatable tube things at car washes that flail their upper limbs around. “I mean, I never would’ve expected to feel so...free for once, you know? Honestly, I don’t even remember how many shots I took, five? Ten?” and instead of trying to recall the correct number, he was now transfixed on the plants sitting on the window sill. “Oh wow, look at those plants! Chan, they’re so green!”

Without really noticing that his feet were moving, he padded towards the sink, stroking the healthy, green leaves.

God, it was embarrassing how he couldn’t shut up! It was as if something inside of him was forcing him to just talk, talk, talk. And the fact that he was getting excited over something as simple as a fucking _plant_ made him want to wither up and _die_ , but truth be told, he kind of enjoyed it. He liked this new feeling of being so carefree and adrift in his own thoughts, he now understood why most people did this kind of stuff.

“I’ve always wanted plants for my room, but my dad never lets me buy anything, and it’s not like even if he did let me, I don’t have enough money for it anyways.”

And for once that entire night, he became silent, realizing he had just talked about his dad to Chan. But he didn’t say anything about it, for he was quiet, stunned by the chatty, outgoing person in front of him.

Seungmin continued to awkwardly touch the plants, feeling Chan stare at him, unknowing of his true intentions.

_Probably thinking about how poor I am…_

Seungmin cleared his throat, the uneasy feeling fading away as quick as it came due to the alcohol still consuming his mind and body. He went back to the counter to pour himself another shot. “Anyways, how are you feeling, hm? Are you a quiet drunk? Or a loud drunk?”

He suddenly gasped, his drink still in his hand. He set it down again and covered his mouth. “Oh my god, what if _I’m_ the loud drunk? _Am_ I the loud drunk?”

Chan guffawed, encaptured by the shocked, puppy dog look on the other boy’s face.

“Seungmin, I don’t think you’ve realized this, but I’ve only taken about four shots, and you’ve taken at least more than eight.” he put his elbow on the counter and leaned on it, giving Seungmin a fond look. “I’m not completely hammered, but I’m a bit buzzed, so I still can comprehend most of what’s going on. I also think you might just be a lightweight.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Seungmin whined, puffing his cheeks out. His glasses were slipping down his nose, so he pushed them up and then crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m not even that drunk…”

_Who does this guy think he’s calling a lightweight?_

“And at least I’m not the shorter one.”

Chan put his hand on his chest, a look of mock hurt painted over his face. “Ouch, Seungmin,” Chan teased as he reached his arm out, petting Seungmin’s head. “That one really hurt, and here I was, only stating facts.”

Seungmin was ready to retaliate once more but decided to stay silent, Chan’s touch igniting flames down his scalp, and then leading down his spine. Normally, he’d be pissed off if Chan ever touched him, because every time he has in the past, it was never in a good way. And it’s not like he’d ever say anything to fight for himself anyways, because he knew it wouldn’t help the situation regardless, but this was different.

He was drunk, for one, and for two, Chan’s touch was gentle, soft. Seungmin’s clouded mind couldn’t tell right from wrong. All he knew was that he was slowly, yet surely, accepting of Chan and felt that deep down inside, he really _was_ a nice person. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stayed and talked with Seungmin, he wouldn’t have even made an _effort_ , and he most definitely wouldn’t have touched him in such an affectionate way.

Well, it was affectionate from Seungmin’s point of view at least.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, liar.”

Chan snickered and pulled his hand back. “You’re such a kid.”

“Now, hold on.” Seungmin unabashedly stepped closer to Chan, jabbing his finger into his chest. “Who do you think you’re calling a kid? I’ll have you know that we’re only like a year apart so don’t give me that bull-”

If Chan felt threatened in any way, he didn’t show it. He merely laughed his stupid little twinkly laugh, taking hold of Seungmin’s wrist and putting it back by his side. “Calm down, Minnie, you’re drunk.”

 _Minnie…He called me…_ **_Minnie_** _._

Although his heart fluttered at the sudden nickname, his stubbornness and boldness seemed to be more enhanced when he was drunk. “Listen, _Channie_ , like I said before, I’m not even that drunk,” he retorted, getting closer to Chan’s face. “Also stop teasing me, at least I’m not a _garden gnome_.”

Chan smirked, his eyebrow tilting in a challenge. Seungmin could’ve sworn he saw Chan’s eyes get darker, but he put it off as just his imagination. “Is that the only insult you have to fling at me, hm? My height?”

He took a step forward, causing Seungmin to take a step back.

“Listen, Chan, if you don’t-”

“Don’t what?”

A couple more steps and Seungmin’s back was against the counter. Putting both of his hands on the counter, trapping Seungmin between his arms, he tilted his head, taunting the boy who was practically melting before him. “Ahh, I’m _so_ scared, Minnie, truly, I’m absolutely _terrified_ of you and what you call insults.”

Seungmin gulped as he felt Chan’s hot breath fan across his face.

_Too close too close—_

_Why is he so close to me?_

Instinctively, even though he wanted to do nothing more than to lean in just a little bit closer to Chan and feel how plush those beautiful, pink lips would be against his own, he turned his head to the side, avoiding Chan’s hard, captivating gaze.

Here Seungmin was thinking that the alcohol made him _bold_ ; no, it did at certain times, but from what he was feeling at that very moment, it made him even more of a panicked gay than he already was.

So with his mind a swirling mess of not knowing what he was doing, saying, or thinking, his inner conscience resorted back to the defense mechanism he’d been using the whole night: stubbornness.

He puffed his cheeks again, part of him still upset that Chan was just- just _riling_ him up like this! And he was having fun with it! He wasn’t scared or even slightly intimidated of Seungmin. He could be scary!

…Did he really only give off puppy dog vibes?

“You’re mean,” Seungmin pouted once more, pushing Chan away, but not too far to the point where he wasn’t in reach. “Don’t speak to me until you decide to stop treating me like a baby.”

His mind truly was a jumbled mess. Part of him wanted to say fuck _everything_ and just kiss the boy who had been teasing and messing with his mind the moment he got there.

Another wanted to get the absolute _fuck_ away from him, because for one again, he was drunk and he clearly wasn’t thinking right, and two, Chan had been an absolute dick to him over the past how many years now? Were things finally okay with them? Was Seungmin really willing to forgive him just like that?

And, of course, the last part of his remaining intoxicated brain cells wanted to get the fuck out of the _house_ , because it was a mistake going in the first place, it was a mistake to get this close to Chan, it was a mistake to get that close to Hongjoong; everything was wrong, wrong, wrong. They were supposed to _hate_ Seungmin, not offer him drinks and actually _talk_ to him, and he was supposed to hate them too, how could you forgive someone that had pushed you around and verbally attacked you every single day?

He just needed some space to _breathe_ because holy _fuck_ , his heart and brain felt like they were going to fucking _burst_. He’d most definitely go into cardiac arrest or have some kind of aneurysm if he was being honest with himself.

Because he was still contemplating his entire existence for being at the party and because his head was still turned the side—and his eyes were fixated on everything but Chan—he didn’t notice the other boy begin to smile again at his sudden changes in attitude, but then wipe it off his face the moment Hongjoong walked into the kitchen.

“Oh…am I interrupting something?”

Seungmin’s eyes flew open and turned his head to the new voice that had entered his and Chan’s little moment.

“No! No, nothing at all-” both of them said simultaneously.

Hongjoong raised his eyebrow, the corners of his mouth tilting up. It didn’t seem like he was suspicious, but more as if he was knowing of the situation? Seungmin couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Well, perfect! We’re starting our big event soon,” Hongjoong said, striding over to Chan, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, Seungmin, as the MVP, you’re going to _love_ it.”

He could visibly see Chan tensing up at Hongjoong’s touch, and he tilted his head in confusion, rocking on his toes. It seemed like a friendly touch, but maybe there was something Seungmin didn’t know. Maybe Chan and Hongjoong were in a fight?

Seungmin, practically unknowing of anything he was saying or doing, enthusiastically nodded. “Chan, can we go right now?” he pleaded, wanting to reach out and grab Chan’s hand, but used every inch of force to not do so. Not with Hongjoong standing right _there_. “Chan…?”

The two boys in front of him were silent as they stared at each other, somehow communicating with their eyes. Chan’s back was turned to Seungmin as he faced Hongjoong so he couldn’t tell what kind of face he was making, but he could see that Hongjoong seemed to be glaring at (or maybe even bargaining with?) Chan.

Seungmin couldn’t help but wonder: what were they thinking about? Hopefully, they weren’t upset at him for being such a burden. But who was he to tell himself whether he really was being a burden or not?

Before Hongjoong had come into the room, were things escalating? Or was it all inside Seungmin’s head? Was reality warping into his own drunk dreams and desires?

Were they…friends now? Or maybe something more?

Boys don’t just look at their friends like that, they don’t look like they _want_ to completely devour the other male standing in front of them, they don’t look like they _want_ to connect their lips in an unending kiss, they don’t _do_ that. _Especially_ not strictly heterosexual men like Chan.

Seungmin didn’t even realize that he unconsciously had grabbed onto the back of Chan’s jersey before feeling the fabric between his fingers as he clutched onto it with each second that ticked by. Had it been seconds? Had it been minutes?

He tugged on it, like a child tugging on his mother’s jacket. “Chan, everything okay?”

Chan turned his head to meet Seungmin, his (probably) intense stare at Hongjoong now softening as he noticed that the other boy had been holding onto him. He sighed and looked down, his facial features now unreadable to Seungmin.

“Yeah, everything’s okay, Seungmin…” he looked up once more and gave Seungmin a tight-lipped smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something hidden behind it. Pity? Sadness?

Or…regret?

Before Seungmin could even think about or analyze the situation any further, Hongjoong cleared his throat. “You know, this is really great that you two are getting along.” Hongjoong crossed the room and was now leaning against the fridge, his arms folded across his chest. “So Chan, how about you take our special guest of honor to the living room, hm? I have to get just one more thing and I’ll meet you there in a bit.”

“Yeah, but-”

As soon as Chan turned around and let the words fly out of his mouth, Hongjoong’s eyes were now demanding, full of fire. “It wasn’t a request, Chan.”

Chan’s sentence fizzled midway, his hands clenching at his sides. His back was facing Seungmin again. Why wouldn’t he just turn around and look at him? He didn’t understand why Chan was so…upset? He was only taking him to the living room, right? He didn’t see what the problem was.

His head was still cloudy and he felt like he was getting sweatier with the more time that passed by. When had it gotten so hot in the room?

He also didn’t know why Hongjoong seemed so…unlike yet like himself again. That look he gave Chan was almost, if not, completely identical to the one he gave to Seungmin on a daily basis.

And it scared him.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, Seungmin clutched at Chan’s jersey again, lightly tugging at it once more. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just the living room, right?”

Chan looked back at him with yet another unreadable expression.

And then looked away.

“Yeah…yeah, it’s just the living room,” he sighed, taking hold of Seungmin’s awfully thin wrist. “Let’s go.”

Hongjoong waved at Seungmin, giving him what seemed to be another friendly smile, so of course, he smiled and waved back.

But what he didn’t see was Hongjoong waiting until they had left the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a carton of eggs, a malicious smile painting over the kind one that he had been showing Seungmin for half of the night.

It was time.

 

* * *

 

Some people glanced at Seungmin the moment they walked into the room, the music pounding from the speakers, traces of smoke—from whatever it might be—still in the air.

Without having been in the living room before, especially with that many people, the panicked feeling from when he first arrived came back as the number of bodies started to become too much for Seungmin.

_Too many people too many people-_

_Leaveleaveleave I need to leave-_

_I don’t belong here-_

But then he wondered: what exactly _was_ he scared of? They invited here for a reason, right? To make amends?

So why was something deep down inside of him telling him to leave even when he had made things right?

He noticed at that time that Chan had let go of his wrist, leaving him alone in the crowd.

_Alone alone I’m alone-_

He wanted to go back to the kitchen or sit down somewhere, anywhere, but all the furniture was occupied by couples on the verge of fucking or people lounging, still smoking from little pens and the hookah, and even more people were blocking the hallway from where he and Chan had come from.

Frantically looking around the room and opening his mouth to call out for Chan and have him by his side again, Hongjoong’s voice abruptly cut through the music and chatter, making Seungmin turn around.

“Hey hey hey! Turn that down a bit, wouldja?”

A boy with red highlights in his pitch black hair (who Seungmin assumed was…Choi San?) quickly turned the music down so it was only a mere sound in the background.

San was another boy on their school’s football team and was, most of the time, with Chan and Hongjoong, but he never really said much. Just kind of stood there as he watched his friends brutally verbally, and sometimes physically, attack Seungmin.

“Thank you, San.” Hongjoong had his hands behind his back as if he was giving a grand speech in front of an entire town. “Now, since our guest has had a fun time exploring new things, I think it’s time to announce the big event, right guys?”

There was a choir of cheers and shouts from everyone, except Seungmin.

Hongjoong had yet again called him a guest. Not even just a guest, a guest of _honor_. Was this whole party…for him? Before, Seungmin could recall him saying that tonight was a special event, was it all tied to him?

The only reasonable explanation for all of this was his original thought: they wanted to make things right. And with all the people cheering, how could he have thought anything different? They were happy that he was there! All of them were chanting his name, putting their cups in the air and towards him in celebration.

And so, Seungmin allowed himself to smile, soaking up all the appreciation for him.

_I’m…accepted._

The alcohol was making him feel happier, maybe even a bit silly, so he bowed, making it as dramatic as possible.

As Hongjoong held up a hand to calm the cheers of his fellow classmates, Seungmin spotted Chan standing just a few feet away from Hongjoong, looking at the ground. Seungmin wanted to wave and call out his name, but just like before, something inside of him was stopping him from doing so.

The shouts gradually died down, all of them now skimming their eyes between Seungmin and Hongjoong, waiting for what would come next.

“However! Before we start anything, I think I should ask the big question that everyone has been wondering.” there was a hint to Hongjoong’s voice that Seungmin couldn’t decipher, but he disregarded it once more as he waited for him to continue. “Seungmin, how ‘bout you take off that shirt of yours and show us all that _smokin’_ body? Whoever is in favor of that, scream it!”

And all at once, Seungmin’s smile dropped to his stomach, his eyes widening, as there was an uproar even louder than the first.

_What?_

His pleading eyes locked with Hongjoong’s, hoping to find the kindness that he had showed him just moments before, but there was nothing.

“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!”

It was an unending chant that made Seungmin’s blood run cold, all traces and symptoms that he was ever drunk or buzzed in the first place being completely annihilated by terror.

“Come on, Seungmin, I know beneath all those layers of clothing you wear, you’re probably ripped as fuck, huh? Wouldn’t you want all these guys and girls looking at you? Oh wait, wouldn’t you prefer if it were only the guys?”

_This can’t be happening-_

_This can’t fucking be happening-_

“What’s wrong, Seungmin? Dick got your tongue?” Hongjoong then turned towards Chan, handing him the object he had been holding onto behind his back, but Seungmin couldn’t see what it was. “I think you and I along with everyone else in this room know that you take it up the ass, don’t you, Seungmin?”

Seungmin felt his legs wobble as he shook his head ever so slightly, his breath coming out in shallow pants, on the verge of having a panic attack.

“No, I-I-”

“Hey, it’s okay, say no more! We’ll do the honors for you, how does that sound?” Hongjoong took a wide step towards him, causing Seungmin to take a step back. It was almost like déjà vu with what had happened in the kitchen with Chan, except this time, there wasn’t a counter to back into, there were _people_.

“Hongjoong, please don’t do this-”

He took another step back, only to find himself being shoved forward. He turned around to see his classmates with nasty grins on their faces, all of them closing in on him. Hongjoong kept getting closer, and closer, and he desperately tried to make eye contact with Chan, but he didn’t look up. Not once.

_Why?_

He stumbled forward as he got pushed from behind again, colliding with Hongjoong, who shoved him back. It was a constant push and shove game, except it was everyone against Seungmin. The crowd had now formed themselves into a circle, all viciously grabbing, pulling, pushing Seungmin towards one another.

“Stop, stop, stop-” he murmured, curling his arms up in front of his face in an attempt to defend himself, all while swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking as hard as he possibly could to keep himself from completely breaking down. “Please _stop-_ ”

_This can’t be happening-_

He couldn’t cry. He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t. He was stronger than this- no, he _had_ to be.

But how could he have been so _stupid_?

He should’ve _trusted_ himself-

He should’ve just _left-_

But it was too late now.

Suddenly, fabric was tearing, glass was breaking, and there he was, standing in the middle of the circle with a horribly torn shirt and cracked lenses.

Laughter erupted from around him, plaguing and suffocating his thoughts.

“Hey, I got some of his shirt!”

“Ew, look at how skinny he is!”

“What a freak!”

His shirt was ripped from his lower to upper back, the bottom of his shoulders and everything else underexposed, along with the collar of it torn almost to his stomach.

_Uglyuglyuglyugly-_

He stood there in shock, hands trembling as he wrapped them around himself, trying to hide the disgusting scars and bruises that tainted his body. There was something bubbling inside of his stomach as he heard the laughter start back up again, saw the fingers pointing at him.

“Does poor little Seungmin get hit at home?”

“Poor Seungmin, who’s the culprit? Your mommy or daddy?”

“Aw, I think he’s gonna cry!”

_Stop-_

_Stop it-_

He hadn’t realized his lip had started quivering, his whole body shaking in humiliation and embarrassment. His breaths came out violent as he felt the heavy butterfly feeling in his stomach move up to his chest, suffocating him.

_Please stop-_

“Oh no you don’t!” suddenly Hongjoong was _there_ in front of him as he felt himself start to sink to his knees. He grabbed a fistful of Seungmin’s hair, yanking his head up to meet his eyes. “Just you wait for the final event of tonight, Seungmin. If you thought _this_ was bad, just you fucking _wait_ ”

His words came out with pure hatred and venom, reminding him of his father.

_Belt whips and endless marks-_

_Ugly bruises and hidden scars-_

“Hongjoong, why…?”

He then scoffed, tightening his grip on Seungmin’s scalp, craning his head even further.

“Why? You’re asking me _why_ I’m doing this?” he threw Seungmin on the floor, people behind him parting like the red sea to get a better look at the brittle boy in front of them. “I’ll tell you why, Seungmin. It’s because you’re fuckin’ _nothing_ , you’ll always _be_ nothing.”

It all took one split second for Hongjoong to ram his foot into Seungmin’s side, knocking all the air in his lungs out of him.

“You’re never going to be _normal_ , you’re never going to have _friends_ , you’ll always be the poor fuckin’ _faggot_ that was raised on the fuckin’ slums of Seoul,”

With each accentuated word, one kick was thrown forcibly into his stomach, making him speechless and gasping for air.

_No more no more-_

“You don’t even deserve to be here. You don’t deserve to even be _alive_.”

By hearing that last sentence, tears finally pooled out of his eyes that fluttered open and shut, the pain overbearingly strong as he did his best to shield his stomach from any more agony.

_I can’t breathe-_

_Please stop-_

He was just a broken boy.

_Chan Chan Chan-_

With his vision blurred and hazy along with his glasses smeared with tears and cracks, he darted his eyes around the room to look for Chan, to look for the boy who he thought wanted to start over, to look for the boy who had treated him with _kindness_.

The boy who he made him feel like he mattered.

All of it was an act. A fucking piece of bullshit _act_. Nothing he experienced tonight was real, not the fucking conversations he had with Hongjoong or Chan, not the fucking way Chan seemed to genuinely care for him and made him feel like he actually _meant_ something, nothing was fucking _real_.

He felt like some kind of rag doll or test crash course dummy. People just kept coming and coming, using all their force to put him in as much physical pain as possible.

“Please just _stop_ -” his voice came out cracked and powerless. He curled his knees up to his stomach, folding his arms over his head, his hands touching his shoulders. “Stop…”

_It was odd how one moment he was surrounded by people, and the next he was alone again._

And it was at that point of the endless beating that he realized: he would always be alone.

No one would ever care about him. No one would ever give a single _fuck_ about him. He could run out of the house and walk right into traffic and just fucking die and no one would bat an eyelash.

He was alone.

“Woah woah, hold up.” the violent blows to his back, head, and legs stopped the moment Hongjoong’s boomed and echoed around the room. From what Seungmin could see while peeking through his elbows, he held his hand up, motioning for someone to come towards him. “Now _this_ is the final event.”

And out of all people in the room, Seungmin didn’t expect to see _Chan_ walk right up to Hongjoong and give him the box-like object he had been given before.

It was a carton of eggs.

“Get up on your fuckin’ feet, fag!”

He felt Hongjoong’s shoe dig into his hip bone, sending another wave of pain through his entire body. He slowly lifted his head up and did his best to stand, his knees wobbling as he had nothing or no one to hold onto. Trying to steady himself, he wiped his eyes with what remained of his sleeve.

He didn’t see Hongjoong open the carton and toss eggs to others around him, giving them a look that could only be described as pure evil.

Before Seungmin could process what was happening, he heard a sickening _crack_ and felt something gooey drip down the back of his neck. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth dropping down into a silent gasp.

“I seriously feel bad for these eggs for having to touch something as filthy as you,” Hongjoong sneered.

Egg after egg, crack after crack, it felt like paintballs splattering on his bare skin.

He left his eyes glued to the ground, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He felt his eyebrows furrow as he felt the stinging prick of tears coming back once more.

_Why…me?_

He had been foolishly deceived by everyone. He foolishly deceived himself. Him? Being accepted? What a fucking _joke_.

But nothing stung more than knowing that Chan had played him too. He had fallen for his trap of “making sure the guest feels comfortable” and it made him want to vomit. How stupid could he have been?

“Here, Chan, you can do the honors.” Seungmin looked up to see Hongjoong giving Chan the last egg, nodding towards him. “You did a good job, Channie boy. It’s all yours.”

Seungmin dug his nails deep into his palm as he lifted his eyes up to meet Chan’s. He didn’t dare look away from him. He tried to find something, _anything_ worth holding onto deep inside those dark, chocolate brown eyes that seemed to be filled with nothing but pity.

_Nothing was real._

Breaking eye contact, he stared at the eggshell littered floor again. He didn’t even want to look at the boy in front of him, knowing that he was just part of this “plan” all along.

_How foolish._

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chan still holding the egg in his palm, hesitating. Seconds passed, and soon enough, Seungmin felt the egg break on his scalp, the yellow liquid dripping down his face.

_Why me?_

His hands shook at his sides as he felt humiliation wash over his body once more. He kept his eyes to the ground, doing his best to push out the sounds of laughter slapping him.

_How disgusting._

Although he was taller, he still felt so small and childish compared to Chan and everyone else surrounding him, mocking him.

_You will never be accepted._

“And to think you actually wanted to be friends…” he cried softly, looking at Chan with an expression of genuine hurt. His tears dripped down his cheeks, mixing with the yolk.

_You’ll always be nothing._

Before Chan or anyone else could say anything more to him, he did his best to force his egg covered body through the thick crowd, all taunting him.

“Hey, Seungmin, where are you going?”

“Aren’t you having fun?”

“It’s just a joke, c’mon-”

But he knew it wasn’t a joke. It was all a fucking _lie_. Just some fucking _show_ that was put on for entertainment. His pain and suffering were _funny_ to others.

_You are nothing and you will always be nothing-_

He tore the door open, getting hit in the face with a violent wind, hearing the sky rumbling and shaking, the trees billowing and swaying with the sudden change in weather.

And as the wind got stronger and stronger, the few drops of rainwater splashing and washing over his dirtied skin, he ran.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if by any chance you have any questions, feel free to dm me on twitter @jeongochi or comment below :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello~ this chapter is somewhat kind of short, so i apologize in advance. i still hope its worth reading because i really did try to put a lot of emotion into this one
> 
> please understand that this chapter will have a lot of tw’s and noncon elements to it, so please please pay attention to the tags
> 
> tw; noncon harassment, self harm, violence, suicidal thoughts

The pavement tore through what was left of the soles of his shoes as he did nothing but blindly run through the rain.

Not to mention that he _felt_ nothing. The pain and embarrassment were there, yes, but a part of him was still trying to process what had all just happened.

_You idiot. You fucking idiot!_

He should’ve known. He should’ve _known_ it was too good to be true. Why would they _ever_ want to make things right with someone like him? Why did _he_ have to go through this? Why _him_? 

 _I told you. I told you were just a fucking joke. I_ **_told_ ** _you._  

He can’t believe he was actually _stupid_ enough to think nothing bad would’ve happened! 

God, _everything_ hurt. His legs throbbed and his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his ribcage. The rain was ice-cold against his skin, the wind numbing his fingers. As he relied on his memory and turned every corner that he needed to, he didn’t think the night could get any worse.

But it did. 

By the time he finally made it to the gate of his house, his body shook from exertion and the rain had come to a slight drizzle. Luckily, it had washed off most of the sticky yolk on and in his skin and hair, but he could still vividly feel the horrible cracks of the shells against his body. Bending over to catch his breath, he put his hands on his knees and allowed his lungs to fill back up with air. The amount of humiliation he felt flooding his entire mind and body didn’t go away, regardless of the conflicting feelings of exhaustion he was feeling.

 _It’s because you’re fuckin’_ **_nothing_** _, you’ll always_ **_be_ ** _nothing._

He pushed his now broken glasses back up, wiping the liquid pouring down his face. Despite his chest still aching and pulsing with degradation and mortification from what had just happened to him, he had to focus on the challenge in front of him.

All he had to do was just very, _very_ carefully, push the gate open without making _any_ noise to give himself away, unlock and open the front door, and get to his room as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

It seemed like such a perfect plan. No lights were on, and the only sound was distant shouting from a house down the street. There was _nothing_ that could possibly go wrong.

 _Please don’t let this night get worse._  

With a tremendous amount of concentration, he slowly pushed the bright red gate open. It creaked slightly, and he momentarily stopped, pausing. He listened again to his surroundings. Nothing. He continued to push. Soon enough, he got the gate open enough to where he could easily slip in. Thankfully, he was skinny enough to do so without making a huge commotion.

Within seconds, he was at the door. He typed the pin into the pad, unlocking it. Carefully opening the door, he peered inside. No one seemed to be awake, so he wedged himself between the crack wide enough for his body once more. His back was facing the interior of the house as he slowly, _slowly_ shut the door. He let out a quiet breath of relief. He had done it!

As he turned around to make his way up the stairs, his blood immediately froze, all sense of time coming to a complete stop. 

He would’ve screamed out of shock, but nothing came out of his mouth as no one other than his own father was standing right behind him.

His feet felt nailed into the ground. Any feeling of anxiety from the previous event was viciously sucked out of his body into a vortex that was now filled with fear.

 “D-dad…” 

He didn’t dare move, knowing that something terrible would happen if he did. So he stood there, his figure frozen as if it were ice. 

“Seungmin.” his father’s voice was so calm yet laced with something only distinguishable as pure _rage_. “What happened to your shirt?”

Seungmin gulped, his heart wanting to stop at that _exact_ moment because _this wasn’t supposed to happen_ , but it continued to pound heavily against his chest. He stayed silent. 

_This can’t be happening._

_Not tonight._

_Please God, please don’t do this to me._

“Ah, well-” he fumbled, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t end his own life right there and then. “I, uh, went out for a walk and I…fell.”

His father’s gaze pierced through him like a skewer. Seungmin may as well be pronounced dead on the spot. 

“Do I look that stupid to you?”

He shook his head, knowing that his excuse was absolutely _terrible._

“No, no no, da- I mean, sir,” he sputtered, and even though every ounce of his body was screaming at him to get the _fuck_ out of there, he did his best to keep his voice steady. “R-really! I-I just went out for a walk and I fell-”

“Where did you go, Seungmin?” his father’s voice was stone cold, just like his eyes that didn’t leave Seungmin’s panicked ones.

“I-I already told you that I-”

“I’m going to ask you one more time, Seungmin. Where did you go?” 

He felt his hands begin to tremble, the loose seams that somehow held him together now unraveling.

“I-I just-”

His father started walking towards him and Seungmin finally snapped out of his dazed trance of _this literally can’t fucking be happening right now_ and shuffled backward, trying to get himself far away from him as possible. He felt his eyebrows furrow and his mouth twist as he felt the rock lodged in his stomach vault its way up to his throat.

“Pl-please, don’t-” his knees collapsed as he hid behind his hands. “Please don’t hurt me tonight, sir.” 

His father scoffed, crossing his arms with a look of disbelief melded over his face.

“Like mother like fucking son. Both of you just lie, lie, lie. Maybe I should punish you like I punish your whore of a mother.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened in fear, his entire body trembling in a panic once more.

 _No, no, no-_  

_Please no, don’t do this to me._

“No, pl-please don’t do anything to me,” he unintentionally knocked over the umbrella holder as he made his way to the corner, the harsh sound reverberating through the practically empty and noiseless house. He needed to _leave_. “I-I’ll be good! I’ll be good, sir, I swear! I promise!”

The look on his father’s face was grim. Seungmin had seen it many times before; a look so disgusted with the worthless son in front of him. A look that meant one step closer for Seungmin ending everything.

“I don’t believe the shit that comes out of your mouth anymore,” he snarled, unmercifully unbuckling his belt, pulling it through the loops of his pants. “This time, I’ll make sure to beat you so goddamn hard that you won’t even _think_ about lying to me again.”

Seungmin shook his head again once more as he heard the familiar sound of metal clinking against metal, his vision becoming hazy with the tears that threatened to spill over for the second time that night.

“No no no, _please-_ ”

In one rapid movement, his father crossed the floor, grabbing a fistful of Seungmin’s hair.

“I don’t give a single _fuck_ about what you have to say to me anymore.” he jerked his head up harshly, Seungmin’s scalp igniting in flames. “Get your fucking worthless, piece of absolute _garbage_ ass upstairs, _now_.”

He didn’t need to be told twice before clumsily scrambling to his feet and taking the stairs two at a time, throwing open his door and resisting the urge to slam it shut and barricade himself in his room.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck-_

He paced around his room, ripping the torn shirt off his body and chucking it into his closet, not even bothering to put a new one on because he already knew his father would tell him to take it off.

 _I need to leave, I need to go_ **_somewhere_** _-_

What could he do? How could he escape the fate already set for him the moment he walked into the house?

Fuck, he just needed to _go_ , he needed to _leave_ -

-the window!

How could he have forgotten about the window?

He staggered towards the glass pane, ready to slide it open and escape, only to see that…the handle had been ripped off.

 _No, no, no!_  

Seungmin’s stomach lurched once more as he anxiously felt around the window, doing his best to pry it open with his fingers.

 _Please_ **_please_ ** _just open!_

There was absolutely _no_ way for him to open it without its handle. There was the option of breaking it open, but would it even break if he used his fists? He practically had no upper body strength, so that idea was a bust for sure.

He could call for help, but he was already in the process of scrapping that idea too. Everyone in their area already knew his father, but not as the person Seungmin knew him as. On the outside, his father was respected in their part of the slums, the police not even bothered with the problems happening behind closed doors.

_Please just open already!_

He was still in such a high state of panic that he didn’t notice the faint sound of footsteps from behind him.

It wasn’t until he heard the sharp _crack_ of the belt on his door frame when he turned around, caught in the act.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Wisely choosing to step away from the window, his eyes fell to the floor, ashamed for even thinking he could’ve gotten away with it.

_Fuck._

“I wasn’t-“

“Get on your knees right now.”

He obliged without complaint, not even bothering to fight or argue against what was going to happen. Putting his hands on the floor so his father could get what he wanted, he prayed that he would finally just be able to _die_.

The first hits were always the worst.

“You’re a lying piece of shit.”

 _Crack!_  

Seungmin gasped as the belt made contact with his skin, the certain spot on his back that was hit immediately bursting into tight flames.

“I’m ashamed to call you my son.”

 _Crack! Crack!_  

“You mean absolutely _nothing_ to me.”

_Crack!_

His arms wobbled as the belt made contact with his skin, again and again, his father never stopping or slowing down in any way Seungmin had hoped.

“You’re a dirty, _disgusting_ liar.”

_Crack! Crack!_

“I wish you’d just die already.”

And that was the final blow. Not physically, but mentally.

_Why am I even here?_

_Crack!_

_Why am I still alive?_

_Crack!_

There was a numb sensation starting to bloom and spread throughout his back instead of sharp stings now. After all, it was just a constant buildup of pain on top of pain, especially with what had happened at the party, this was the worst it could get.

He yelped as his father unexpectedly whipped his neck, his head twisting in discomfort.

“Did I _say_ you could move?”

_Crack!_

Another hit on his back.

From there on, Seungmin didn’t know how much time had passed. He stopped keeping count after 20. 

_How could one night go so wrong?_

Throughout the beating, he hadn’t even noticed that he had started crying, his tears dripping onto the cold, wooden floor. He internally cursed the Gods above for putting him on this earth at this exact moment in time. Had he done something wrong in his past life? Had he killed someone or bullied another person? Whatever the reason, he truly started to believe that maybe he _should_ just die.

 _What is my purpose?_  

Suddenly, he heard the belt hit the floor with a _clank_ and felt a coarse hand run up and down his back, his entire body freezing at his father’s touch. 

“Such smooth skin even with all that damage…”

Seungmin would’ve screamed if he could’ve, but what good would that do for him? Another beating? Even though his back was numb to the touch, swelling and most likely painted a bright, angry red, he didn’t think he could handle another hit. He didn’t _want_ to.

“S-sir, I-” 

“Shh, don’t say anything else before I hurt you any more than I want to, doll.”

His heart and stomach crumbled as his father’s hands continued to roam his back and chest, his fingers rough and careless.

“Such pretty skin...just like your mother’s...”

_This is wrong-_

“S-sir, please stop-” he managed to choke out through his tears as he finally let his knees collapse. 

His father stopped the movement of his hands, hovering over his scarred body before delivering a sharp slap to his bottom. 

“You don’t get to decide when I get to stop.” he grabbed his ass, massaging it as he spoke in a hushed voice. “Scream for help if you want, no one will ever be able to hear you.” 

“ _Please_ , this is too-” 

“Too what? Too disgusting?” his father let out a low chuckle near his ear, still rubbing his dirty hands all over his body. “It’s not _my_ fault, it’s _yours_ for letting this all happen, Seungie. You’re lucky I don’t just pull your pants down and fuck your pretty little ass right now.”

Seungmin couldn’t suppress the sob that left his mouth.

 _I’m…_ **_disgusting_** _._

How horrible it was that this was all happening to him. Did the angels like to see him suffer too? Did everyone up above just think of his life as some entertainment show?

Did anyone care enough about him to do anything to help?

He shook as he continued to taste the saltiness on his tongue, his body jerking with every calloused touch. 

_Stop stopstopstop-_

_No more-_  

“Look at you, so pretty and sweaty just for me,” his father purred, gripping his hair hard to crane his head backward. “Because you were such a good boy tonight, I won’t do anything else. Consider yourself lucky, for now.”

With that, he planted a wet kiss on Seungmin’s tear-stained cheeks, let go of his hair and closed the door with a quiet _click_.

Seungmin let out another shuddering sob of relief as he let his body hit the floor, curling his knees up to his chest. 

_How disgusting._

_How weak._

_It hurts._

The tears never stopped flowing, and he never bothered to wipe them, because he _knew_ that they’d never stop.

He’d never be able to escape this life.

_How fucking pathetic._

Even now as he lay on his floor, water pooling by the side of his face, he realized: _is this my purpose?_

Was he purposefully put on this world to suffer? And if so, why him? 

It felt like hours had passed when he forced himself to stand up, his legs wobbly and numb like the rest of his body.

 _Everything_ felt numb. It was like he could _feel_ his emotions just turning to stone, his thoughts turning into a void of nothing. 

 _Why am I here?_  

_Why am I alive?_

Hongjoong’s words rang in his mind, suffocating him.

 _It’s because you’re fuckin’_ **_nothing_** _, you’ll always_ **_be_ ** _nothing._

If he was nothing, why was he still here?

What was his _purpose_? 

He now sat at the edge of his bed, staring at nothing in particular.

 _Why am I still here?_  

The voices were getting too loud, drowning and dragging him down to the oblivious black pit of nothingness. 

_Why am I still alive?_

He needed something, _anything_ to release him from the humiliation, the pain, the suffering he had endured all in one night. He felt nothing yet every single fucking emotion at the same time.

So he reverted back to the only thing he knew how to do in times like this. 

Reaching inside the wooden drawer and pulling out a glasses case, his heart stuttered, sending waves of _don’t you dare fucking do it_ pulsing through his body.

It had been so long.

His lamp doused his room in a subtle, orange glow as he opened the case, removing his broken glasses from his busted, wet face and setting them on his desk, putting on the spare pair he kept for situations like this. All that was left inside the case was the cleaning tissue that he had put in there to hide the only piece of salvation he had. 

He hesitated, closing the case with a quiet _clack_. 

 _What’s stopping me?_  

He heard his classmate’s voices in his head, menacingly taunting and doubling over in laughter.

 _You don’t even_ **_deserve_ ** _to be here. You don’t deserve to even be_ **_alive_** _._

He heard his father’s voice, giving his praises that he never wanted.

_Such smooth skin even with all that damage…_

So what _was_ his purpose then? Why did he still bother to wake up every single _fucking_ day? Why did _he_ have to go through all of this? _Why him_?

Without even thinking about it, he opened the case once more, carefully setting the tissue on the desk to reveal his blade.

It originally used to be a part of a box cutter he had gotten from his father’s drawer, but he took it out of the metal casing and just kept the blade.

He had only cut one other time in his life, and he vowed that he’d never do it again unless he felt like he _had_ to. This was one of those times.

Handling the sharp blade between his two hands, a part of him screamed for him to stop, that this wasn’t the right thing to do.

_Seungmin, don’t do it._

_You’ll regret it._

But would he? 

 _Why shouldn’t I?_  

_I’m worthless, aren’t I?_

_I don’t deserve to live, right?_

_What’s my_ **_purpose_** _?_  

He looked at his pale wrist, his old scars now faded away, melded with his skin.

 _Fucking worthless_. 

The first cut was light, fast, and uncalculated. He didn’t feel anything, so he did it again, and again, and again, increasing how deep he went to actually _feel_ something. 

 _You’re fucking disgusting._  

 _You’re pathetic._  

_You were made to suffer a life alone._

He blinked, pulling back to reality after one particular cut that sent a stinging spark up his arm. The whole time he’d been looking at his wrist, his vision was unfocused, but now that he was _aware_ and looking at it, it amazed him to see the small beads of blood immediately forming from the slits, the faint smell of copper now becoming overbearingly strong.

Suddenly he had the urge to laugh. Was he finally going mad?

 _I’ll always be alone, won’t I?_  

_If I kept going, no one would care, right?_

_If I died would anyone care?_  

His entire forearm was stained with wet and drying blood, some of it dripping down to his elbow, the liquid never halting no matter how much he wiped the cuts with his fingers.

He hadn’t realized he had gone so far up, the smooth skin now looked like it was dipped in bright red ink.

_Ugly._

He didn’t stop his furious, semi-light movements on his arms, slashing into the already broken skin, until he heard a loud slap from the other room. 

 _Mom-_  

That’s when he realized: if he died, who would save his mom? Who would help her? Who would pick up her shattered pieces and put her back together?

No, no, he- he couldn’t do it. He _couldn’t_ do it, he _refused_ to. 

That- that’s the reason why he hasn’t ended his life before, right? His mom? 

…but was that the truth or was it just an excuse to stop?

Was he really _that_ pathetic to still want to live? 

What was the reason _why_?

He momentarily stopped cutting into his flesh, his eyes wide and staring at nothing once more. 

 _What am I afraid of?_  

Setting the tainted blade on his desk and grabbing the towel hanging on his chair, he did his best to wipe the blood off his arm, but most of it was already dried and caked onto his skin, so he cursed and threw his towel somewhere in his room.

_I’ll deal with it tomorrow._

It was the weekend, so at least he didn’t have to see anyone from the party until Monday, but that means he was… 

…stuck at home with his dad. 

 _Fuck._  

His head hit his pillow, mentally and physically exhausted for everything he’d endured that night. His arm and back throbbed dully, and his breathing was slow, yet rough as he thought about his life.

 _What’s my purpose?_  

With that being the last thought in his mind, he allowed himself to succumb to the throbbing darkness, hoping that someone would hear his prayers and finally give him the courage to never wake up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that seungmin did NOT consent to any of his dad’s actions. its truly disgusting and i am in no way trying to “romanticize” noncon actions, i wrote that scene because i wanted to show how fucked up and terrible of a person his dad is

**Author's Note:**

> if by any chance you have any questions, feel free to dm me on twitter @jeongochi or comment below :)


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